Unnamed
Just like any other day, I awoke to the all-too familiar feeling of rage. Every single time I was wrenched from the endless bliss that is sleep, I felt nothing but seething hatred. This hatred was something I had become accustomed to, but what was not familiar, however… well, that’s just it; everything lacked familiarity at the time. I was not in my bed-- nor any bed for that matter. I’m not quite sure how I ended up where I was, but it felt distinctly wrong. Not that I really knew what “right” was supposed to be like, although the scent of lavender was on my mind. I was unable to remember how my room was meant to look, only that the starkly furnished, gray walled one that stood before me was decidedly incorrect. On the matter of correctness, I could not seem to recall even basic details: the date, the year, the country, much less why I was currently standing in not-my-room. Most significantly, however, I seemed to have lost the ability to recall my name. With rising panic, I stumbled towards the window to open the blinds. Maybe seeing the outside will jog my memory, any memory, I thought to myself.
This effort proved futile, as the window showed nothing beyond fog. I could not tell whether it was day or night simply that there was an obscene amount of gray. My own reflection was equally cloudy and difficult to make out.. Mist obscured the ground below, immensely concerning me. I wonder if I could survive a fall from there… I pressed my hand to the glass to no avail. Defeatedly, I turned and walked towards the room’s sole door.
To my deep relief, it was unlocked. Stay calm, stay calm. I’m sure this is only temporary, no sense losing my mind over this. Perhaps it could make for a fascinating story. I stepped into the hall and marveled at the sheer size. Apparently I was on an upper floor, as I noticed a series of stairs leading down. More impressive, however, was the glass rotunda above my head; not that it allowed any sunlight, given the fog, but it was still nice to look at. Do I even like architecture? I wondered.
Apparently so. I shrugged and turned towards the stairs. They were made of marble and echoed deafeningly with each step; I hoped that I had not awoken any other inhabitants of this ostensible palace, assuming there were any at all. The stairs led to another hall, just as ornate as the last: high ceilings, marble columns, and a decidedly loud floor. Perfect. I meandered on for some time, unsure of where I was going, or for how long I had already wasted. Time seemed to have no relevance to me any longer; it may have been twenty minutes, maybe forty? I mentally attempted to keep track of the time to no avail. The fog was no less dark nor any more light, which certainly did not help my attempts. Eventually, I came across what could only assume was a library. There were rows of pristine, dark wooden shelves, but not a single book to be found. Overcome with the sheer absurdity of this situation, I burst out laughing. Surely this was a joke? This entire damnable palace, and no one could be bothered to provide a copy of anything? Anything? My hysterics came to a sudden halt when I heard the sound of movement. Oh great, I’m going to be murdered. I bet they will make me into books. I think that's happened before…
I proceeded to--like any idiot in a horror movie--call out.“Hello? Is anyone there?” So that’s what my voice sounds like. Seems incorrect.
To my extreme surprise, someone replied. “Who’s there? Why are you here?” The voice was shaky and hoarse, as if they had been crying.
I followed the source of the voice frantically. God knows how long it has been since I’ve seen anyone. My footsteps echoed throughout the long, sparklingly clean chamber as I made my way towards the noise.
Leaning against a bookshelf was the first person I had seen in the palace. Deep, gray eyes stared into mine, whatever color those may be. Their face was red and streaked in tears, and their blonde hair was charmingly askew. Gray dominated their clothing, not unlike everything else I had seen thus far. My enchantment ended with the sound of their voice, more confident now, piercing through the overwhelming silence. “Well? What do you want? I need to be… alone.” They struggled to put into words their feeling on the matter.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, I don’t know where I am, or what I am for that matter, and now there’s another person. It’s all very exciting! But also terrifying, but-” I stumbled over my words before being interrupted by the lack thereof.
The stranger stared at the polished wooden floor, devoid of the excitement I possessed.
“Are you alright?” I chose my words slowly, taking great caution not to offend this stranger.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem, I don’t know anything, just that all of this is wrong,” the stranger exclaimed, eyes fixed firmly to the floor.
I studied them; they looked about my age, however old that may be. I did not recognize their face, yet they smelled familiar in a way I could not place. Lavender perhaps?
I snapped back to the present and addressed them. “Well, that about sums it up, huh? If it makes you feel any better, I seem to be incapable of remembering anything as well-” I knelt down to be on their level- “But it’s nice to see someone else. Why languish alone when you can do so with someone you’ve never met?” For the first time in our brief acquaintanceship, they smiled. Rising at last, they turned their gaze towards mine. I stood and offered my hand, which the stranger took in theirs.
“Well then, it’s a pleasure to be able to languish together,” they said.
Now what? I wondered. Following my lead, we walked out of the library and into the halls. Just as I had, they marveled at the scale of our shared mansion.For quite some time, we said nothing at all, merely sharing each other’s presence.
Finally, I broke the silence. “So, do you have a name?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no.” Their expression darkened once again.
“Well I don’t either. I believe we ought to remedy that,” I quipped.
For a moment, a look of bemusement overtook their face. “What do you suggest? That we name each other? I hardly know you.”
“Exactly. Henceforth, you are named Avery.” I grinned at them, waiting for their response.
“Why Avery? Seems like an odd choice.” Much to my satisfaction, they seemed amused.
“I dunno. It seems right.” The first thing that that can be said for.
They scoffed. “Seems logical; I suppose that makes you Harper. I rather like the name.”
Harper. I could do worse. I smiled back at them. “It’s a deal. Pleasure to meet you Avery.” I offered my hand.
“Likewise Harper.” They met my hand with their own and shook vigorously. An identity, someone to share it with; that’s all I really need, right?
“Well, at least I know I won’t lose my mind from loneliness.” I chuckled. Avery smiled back at me. For just a moment, brief or not, I actually believed my own words. Oh, how very, very wrong I was. As we continued our exploration throughout the mansion, I couldn’t help but notice how relatively cheery Avery seemed. With each new room we discovered--an observatory blinded by fog, a greenhouse without a hint of life, countless bedrooms--their face lit up with excitement, I can only imagine what they were thinking. We must have seen around sixty rooms before they finally spoke up.
“Harper, I would like to sit down now, you can go on without me.” By the final two words, their voice had begun to falter and they broke eye contact.
“Nonsense. I don’t want to lose you in this labyrinth of a building, I can stay with you for as long as you’d like.” On that comment, their gaze returned to mine and they smiled, as if to say thank you. We eventually came across a sitting room; gray walls, of course, but this one had the hint of furnishings. One leather sofa in the dead center of the room. Avery walked towards it first.
“Oh my God. A book! I’ve been looking for one for- well, I don’t know how long, but a while!” They practically shrieked.
How fascinating it was to see Avery so excited. Sure enough, there was a heavily worn copy of Anna Karenina lying on the couch, almost expectantly. “Well, this room certainly is inviting; the first book we find in this absurd mansion and it's that? How does one even begin to read something of that caliber? What a strange sense of humor the universe must have.”
Avery smiled halfheartedly. Not missing a beat, they replied. “On the subject of the universe, what exactly are we doing here? I have no idea how I got here, only that I am here. That’s not exactly a comforting thought. Surely you notice how wrong this all is?”
Of course I do. People tend not to forget their entire lives and be fine with it, I thought. The words however failed to materialize, as my gaze drifted towards the wall behind the pair of us. Well, not so much the wall as the door as the massive door that I now faced. My heart skipped a beat; it appeared to be ancient, far more so than anything else in the mansion, ten feet tall, dark oak adorned with an intricately carved frame. Most importantly however, it was an exit, perhaps one leading to freedom. I was completely transfixed. I wanted nothing more than to smash its gorgeous panels down and run free of this disquieting place; I had to know what lay beyond. My legs propelled me towards it almost unconsciously, that perfect, enticing door.
It was at this point that I became aware of the arms tightly wrapped around my shoulders. I turned around to face Avery, their face looking just as it had when I first saw it: afraid. “Harper,” they cried, “what are you doing? Were you going to leave? Please, don’t abandon me. Don’t leave me alone in this place.” I was at a loss for words. In the moment, I had completely forgotten about Avery. How could I do that? How could I be so selfish?
“I… I’m sorry, Avery. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s-”
Avery cut short my weak apology by hugging me tighter. “Please, let’s just move on. Far away from that creepy door. Something about it makes me feel deeply uneasy.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I lied. I would be a monster to leave them; perhaps I could convince them to come with me?
I showed them the way to the grand staircase I had ventured down earlier. We each chose bedrooms and separated.
“We will figure this out, I swear. It’s not like we will remain here forever,” I said with a faked smile.
They smiled faintly and replied, “I hope you’re right, Harper.” They proceeded to their room in silence, and I to mine.
Despite having no concept of time,I climbed into the unfamiliar bed and shut my eyes. I hope I’m right too, Avery. As I slipped into unconsciousness, two things pervaded my mind: Avery and the door. Imprisonment and complacency or freedom and uncertainty?
I’m not sure how I managed to do so, but I dreamt that evening--well, not evening, but I considered it as such for the sake of simplicity. Predictably, I saw the door; it was ever-so-slightly open, tantalizingly so. Bright light poked through the opening, beckoning me towards it. I was so close, so close to shoving it open, to basking in the freedom, but something stopped me; or, more appropriately, someone stopped me. The smell of lavender was overpowering. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but I could feel their gray eyes boring into my soul nonetheless.
“You… you’re leaving me again, aren’t you? Harper, look at me, please, look at me,” the apparition of Avery pleaded.
I did not look at them. I took a step closer to the door and placed my hand on the cool, brass handle.
“Goddamnit Harper, just look at me! Please. I can’t be here alone. Don’t do this!”
My gaze did not stray from the door ahead of me. I turned the handle slowly and began to push, reveling in the high-pitched creaking sound it made.
“Harper… why?” Avery cried out, more softly now.
I shoved the immense door open with all of my strength. I’m free! Maybe now Avery will join, surely they want this too.
At last, I turned back to face them. Their eyes stared blankly into space, unseeing, unmoving. Before I could so much as say their name, their skin turned gray and they began to shatter and crumble away. I watched in horror as their body was reduced to nothing more than ash.
On that cheery note, I awoke suddenly. The ceiling above my bed dominated my view. Gray, just like everything else in this absurd palace.
I lazily made my way out of room and into the rotunda. Shockingly, the sky remained just as gray as ever. I groaned and made an obscene gesture towards the dome. Yeah, that’ll show you for being GRAY, I thought to myself.
It was at this moment that I became aware of the fact that Avery was watching me, trying their best not to laugh.
“I take it you’re not a morning person?” They said through giggles.
“Shutup. I’m not even sure that it is morning” I retorted venomously.
“Point taken. So, did you dream of anything exciting? Because I didn’t! I think it was something involving books...”
“Nope, I didn’t think of anything at all,” I lied. Do I do that often? “I would love to hear about the books though.”
Their eyes lit up. “Well, remember the library? I dreamt that books took up every shelf and…”
As they spoke, we walked towards the still-empty library together and sat at predictably gray couch. Their lips moved, and I’m sure they were speaking, but I heard nothing Avery said to me. My focus drifted back to the door, to the feeling of the brass handle in my hands, to the sound it would make when I finally pushed it open, and to the idea of freeing myself from this stupid, gray mansion. I then noticed that Avery had stopped speaking. They seemed concerned.
“Are you alright Harper? You look… distant,” Avery inquired, every so carefully.
“Oh, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just thinking about what we should do now; I doubt this place has Wi-Fi.”
Avery thought for a moment, beaming. “When I was younger, my mother and I would spend hours coming up with stories together. I know it seems stupid and infantile, but I always pretend that’s what I’m doing whenever life gets far less pleasant.” Their gaze drifted to something distant and they smiled to themself. Memories?! Where are mine? How come Avery gets endearing childhood memories? I wanted to push them further on the topic of their sudden remembrances, but something about the way they looked so content stopped me. Who could try and shatter their happiness? I thought back to my dream from the previous not-night. Oh that’s right, me, apparently.
“That doesn’t seem stupid at all. I’d love to try. You start,” I said, adding as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
Avery gazed into my eyes and began with a wide smile. Our first story involved an anarchist, an artist, and a three-legged dog. Avery wove detailed, beautiful worlds, and I populated them with shallow, pointless characters and extraneous details. Regardless, Avery seemed pleased; I needed for them to be happy.
This became our routine. We spent what I could only assume was hours crafting stories together each not-day. Sometimes in the library, sometimes in the mansion’s not-so great hall, but never near the door, never close to freedom. The sky remained gray, the library remained empty, the door remained unopened, and my frustration grew. I NEED to know what is beyond that accursed barrier. There must be life beyond this depressing void of a palace. And yet I stayed, because I loved experiencing Avery’s masterful distractions. Even though we both knew everything was wrong, we acted as if we were happy. Besides, I could not, in good conscience, leave them. The recurring vision of Avery turning to ash was a very effective deterrent. Yet, the door never left my mind; it was always there, somewhere in my mind. I wanted nothing more than to run up to its wooden panels and shove it open as hard as I possibly could, that beautiful, engrossing, door.
This very thought was particularly strong on what must have been the eightieth edition of “Avery is creative in a way that I can never match.” Title pending.
“...and so, it is for the good of humanity that you must find it within yourself to love again,” Avery said sensationally. In another life, perhaps they could have become an actor. On this particular not-day, we sat in the library and told a story about a disgruntled, jaded God.
“I… I will try my best,” I exclaimed robotically. Neither God nor I had much passion today. I stared blankly into space.
They noticed my disinterest like a hawk notices their prey. “Harper, we can stop if you’d like. You seem exhausted. God is really getting to you, huh?” Avery chuckled.
I responded with cool silence. Avery’s face fell.
“If there is something bothering you Harper, we can talk about it. I-”
“What are we doing, Avery?” I interjected, far more forcefully than I had intended.
They were taken aback. “I don’t understand. Would you rather be doing something else? I’m sure we can come up with something better to do-”
I cut them off again. “I can’t pretend that this doesn’t bother me any longer. We can leave, we can be free! We know where the door is, why haven’t we used it? ”
Failing to meet my gaze, Avery spoke.“Harper, I thought you had moved on from that door. We agreed that it was clearly evil. There has to be something fulfilling to do here. We can find it together, please, trust me.”
I scoffed. “I don’t care about anything involving this awful gray hell. I need to leave right now. I’m going crazy here!.” As soon as the words had left my mouth, Avery’s gaze fell to the ground. How could you be so harsh? I chided myself.
There was a long pause. Avery breathed in deeply and locked eyes with me once again. “How could you call this hell? Don’t you care about me? Am I a part of your eternal suffering?” Their eyes began to well with tears.
I can’t take this anymore. I stood up from the table and turned my back on Avery. I had to see freedom, whether Avery was joining or not; surely they would follow, and then they would realize how stupid they were for staying in the palace for so long. I began towards to hall, confident in my own success.
“So you’re just going to leave then?” Avery’s voice shook as they called to me.
I continued walking, not looking at them. I had to be free. I had to get away from here. This house is what is evil, not the damn door.
“I love you, Harper,” Avery spoke softly, as if to themself.
I did not look back at them as I ran out into the hall, nor as I approached the door. Avery… Avery loves me? And I left them like that? How could I do that? What am I doing? I hardly thought of my long awaited liberation as I rushed through the door; the bland, ugly door. It did not fly off its hinges, nor give way to heavenly light. The door opened unceremoniously, as all doors do, and slammed behind me.With great trepidation, I took my first step of “freedom.” The outside was still cloudy and gray, just as the inside of the mansion was. There was no visible road directing me towards liberation. I stumbled around virtually blind in the fog through tall grass. I walked forward to the best of my ability, searching for any indication of man-made paths. What have I done? Avery, oh God. What will happen to Avery?
In my lamentations, I managed to trip on a single protruding rock. I fell to the ground and was overwhelmed with the smell of lavender. Just like Avery. Why did I leave them? To my extreme horror, the “rock” was a gravestone adorned with a bouquet of lavender flowers. Could that be the source of the smell? The grave was marked with a name that no longer had any significance to me, yet it called to me in the same way the door did; I knew it was mine. I‘m dead. Of course I’m dead. And that means Avery is too. Freedom no longer had anything to offer me, there is only Avery. With this fact made completely clear in my mind, I marched back towards the gray heaven I called home, towards the gray eyes that I loved so deeply. I made my way back to the door and mentally prepared what I would say to Avery. Hey, sorry I tried abandoning you. As it just so happens, I think I love you. By the way, I’m dead and so are you.
I reached the metal handle and inhaled deeply. It’s all going to be alright. Besides, we have an eternity together, I’m sure I can make it up to Avery, somehow. I think some small part of me knew better, but I was trying to be optimistic. I pushed on the handle, desperate to see Avery again. My heart sank: to my dismay, the handle would not budge. I tried again, harder this time: nothing. Please don’t do this to me. I’m begging you, please, just open. I hit the door harder still, again failing to produce any discernable difference. At this point, I lost any semblance of calm. I attempted yelling in a desperate hope that Avery could hear me, but no sound came. Please, please, God, or whatever it is that is doing this, open the door, I will do anything. Just let me inside, I am begging you. I frantically beat the door, over and over and again. My hands were likely broken, and most certainly bloodied, but I did not relent; I ran at the door as hard as I could, I kicked at the handle, at the hinges, but nothing so much as shook that damnable door. I need to find Avery, I need to tell them how I feel. After what felt like hours of slamming and beating and pleading, I collapsed to the ground, panting and crying. Avery, my Avery.They’re going to think I hated them. That I left them without any second thoughts.
Nothing I did could bring me back to Avery. That existence--that Hell--was my own creation.
As if by divine intervention, I noticed bright, almost heavenly light pouring through the door. I ran towards the ever-so-slightly open entrance, to the promise of a second chance, into the blinding light. A figure stood in the doorframe, ghostly arm outstretched. I took their hand in mine and stared deeply into their piercingly gray eyes.
Whether or not the figure was Avery, I did not know nor did I much care what happened next, only that for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.